


A Scientific Paper: How Mudbloods Are Stealing Magic

by AlexFlex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Mudblood, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Nazis, Note - chose not to use archive warnings, Science Experiments, Snatchers (Harry Potter), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex
Summary: There is a widespread public misperception, that the Chinese word for “crisis” is composed of elements that signify “danger” and “opportunity. That is a simple mistranslation.That does not mean the idea itself is flawed.Voldemort's return was a boon to more than just the Death Eaters.What happened to 'The Disappeared' and who 'disappeared' them.Russian translation now also availablehere- thanks to bitethedusk
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	A Scientific Paper: How Mudbloods Are Stealing Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [A Scientific Paper: How Mudbloods Are Stealing Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557977) by [bitethedusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitethedusk/pseuds/bitethedusk)



> This is a reworking of an older fic, I hope you like it. Please be aware it discusses Nazi experiments.
> 
> Thanks to Isabelle_lesteplume for the gorgeous book cover! Check out their insta  
> Translation by bitethedusk  
> [русский язык](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557977)

In the time of Grindelwald, during the war, it had been common among Muggles.

Well, at least among some of the Muggle scientists on the side of that Hitler maniac. Not all had been maniacs and some recognised what an opportunity the war presented. It was an opportunity to push the boundaries, to challenge conventions, to explore and to discover. How often did the opportunity arise to experiment on the human body? On people whom no one cared whether they lived or died, packed into concentration camps?

They tried to find out as much as they could. How much cold can a human body withstand? How much pain? How long exactly can one survive without water, what effect seawater had? Which organs shut down first? And then try again with a twin to verify the results. It was not as accurate as they liked, as often the deaths were hastened due to misery and despair. When the war ended, some fled to places like Brazil and there were rumours of hamlets, consisting almost entirely of twins. Pockets where the research had continued. Others, even those on the winning side, who have since whitewashed the history of their own atrocities, had looked to the power of the atom, and their research had eventually led to the deaths of 120,000 in a single minute and hundreds of thousands more from radiation poisoning in the following months and even years.

People could wring their hands as much as they liked, but the truth was, the knowledge they had gained was still being used in Muggle hospitals at the end of that century. The atomic energy some countries were powered by was a direct result of the wartime research. The final outcome justified the means.

Some wizards also took the opportunity during the war with Grindelwald and again, when You-Know-Who first rose to power. Sometimes, both Muggles and Wizards who went missing were not killed immediately. In certain dark cellars and out-of-the-way places the advancement of spell-craft proceeded, in ways which the majority would frown upon, but nevertheless, they appreciated the results in the long run.

Ooo0000ooO

Sebastian was a classical scholar and recognised the meaning of the words, even though the grammar was not quite correct. At the words ‘Petrificus Totalis’ his whole body became rigid and he was powerless to even twitch a muscle, then came ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ and he felt weightless. A hook pulled behind his belly-button inwards and suddenly he was no longer at Cambridge, in his cosy room, but in what looked like a dungeon.

*

"Yes, constable, Seb had been quite stressed about presenting his thesis, we haven’t seen him in the refractory for several days. It’s as if he disappeared into thin air."

"Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for the pressure to get to be too much." The police officer coughed awkwardly at the tweed-jacketed man in front of him. "We will dredge the river, but I’m afraid often nothing is found."

Ooo0000ooO

A quill and parchment floated in mid-air taking notes. The room was damp and condensation dripped down the ancient stonework. The chill in the air added to the atmosphere of hopelessness.

_Day 27: The effects of Skele gro on the Muggle are not as pronounced as on the Mudblood._

_Right radius and ulna bones were broken. Wait for one hour then Skelegro was administered orally in 4 doses over 12 hours. The Muggle’s Right forearm is completely healed in 36 hours, whereas for the Mudblood only 24 hours are required. The theory is that this is due to the magical core assisting in healing the Mudblood._

_The left arm is then broken and struck once an hour to determine pain levels, but the right is undisturbed. In the Mudblood the undisturbed arm is completely healed approximately 4 hours before the arm which is struck. In the Muggle it is 6 hours._

Ooo0000ooO

Marcus’s thirst for knowledge meant that the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before it screamed out ‘Ravenclaw’.

Both Mother and Father had been so proud when he had owled them to let him know that he had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but a few years of lacklustre teaching had quenched most of his thirst for knowledge. In his third year at Hogwarts he had owled them with news that the Boy Who Lived was at school as the rumours said. He was disappointingly ordinary. Scrawny even.

Marcus had never meant to hurt anyone. As is always the case, ‘it just happened’. As it seemed that the Dark Lord was rising to power it seemed pragmatic to get onto the winning side. He had left school and his uncle Damocles had done a rare favour and put him in touch with Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary at the ministry. With some false flattery, a gift of sweet sherry and a sick feeling in his stomach, he had managed to secure a position and funding to research ‘How Muggles are Stealing Magic’.

Soon, however he gained a deeper insight than ever into the ‘disappeared, presumed dead’. _He_ knew where the missing were. They were in his research lab. He operated on a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ basis. When a raid was reported in the Prophet, sure enough, he would receive more shackled test subjects. ‘Correlation does not equal causation’ he would say to himself. Who knows where they came from, it did not mean Death Eaters were involved. He came to know some of the snatchers by name, but that did not mean anything definite. 

Ooo0000ooO

Marcus had started with a simple desire to _know things_. His mother could not answer all his questions. He wanted to go to a muggle primary school.

"Delphina, be reasonable, what will people say when they find out he is going to a Muggle school?"

"You just tell them that it is a quirk of mine, being Muggle born. Or even better, just tell them he is home-schooled. You are the expert at arithmancy. Modify a Mimblewimble tongue tie curse, or even a fidelius so that he can speak of his muggle schooling only to us. In fact, I’ve already enrolled him."

It would have been impossible to give birth in a muggle hospital. Labouring women and accidental magic went hand in-hand. However, she had registered him with a Muggle birth certificate as well as a wizarding one. All his paperwork was in order for both worlds.

As always, his father had gone along with any scheme his mother suggested. He remembered that day in Nocturn Alley, aged around five. His first wand.

The wand shop in Nocturn Alley was tucked in a small nook, next to a shop filled with strange objects and you could only see the door if you had a card, inviting you in. He stood close to his father as the wandmaker spoke in low tones with his father.

"Many simply use old family wands, but you know that for best results, the wand chooses the wizard. And this business of wands for eleven-year-olds is a rule for mudbloods to keep them in line before Hogwarts. Who knows what they will do without magical parents to keep them in check? Besides, their kind of magic is unbalanced, out of control, so it makes sense to restrict them. Not necessary for good, decent wizarding stock like yourself."

As always, his father was non-committal and simply made a ‘mmmm’ sound which could be taken as agreement and patiently waited on a bench in the shadows of the stop. Marcus felt a warmth in his hand as a rush of sparks came out of a small elm and dragon heartstring wand, barely longer than a pencil. Father placed the galleons on the counter, and walked out of the shop. Before Marcus knew it, that hook of apparition had pulled him and they were suddenly back home, in the kitchen where mother was waiting.

His parents looked at each other, in that way that grownups do, silently without saying a word. Father nodded slightly, then Mother spoke.

"Now Marcus, remember we talked about you going to a school with Muggles. But you’re not allowed to tell them about magic, and if any wizard asks, you need to tell them that mummy teaches you."

Marcus just nodded silently.

"Bring out your wand," mother said.

He did so and father did the same. ‘Repeat after me; ‘I will not tell Muggle children about magic, and I will not tell anyone about my Muggle school’.

As Marcus did so, a thin gold thread came out of his mother’s wand, and wrapped around his and Father’s hand.

"This is too important not to test," mother said. She rushed him to the front door and they walked down the road towards the centre of the village.

By the post office, she spotted a little boy Marcus’s size. He had snot dripping down his nose, and the ice cream he was eating was dripping down his chin.

The boy’s little pink tongue was like a snake, charmer’s snake, rearing up, trying to get to his nose, despite the lure of ice-cream. Through the window, his mother was gossiping as usual at the Post Office counter. Her ponytail was pulled tight and her hooped earrings caught the light like a snitch as she moved her head, engrossed in her storytelling. Living in a village, everyone knew everyone and Tracey could talk for hours.

"Jayden," Marcus' mother said. "Do you believe in magic?"

The boy started talking about a man who had made a coin come out from behind his ear at a birthday party. He was clearly learning how to talk the hindleg off a donkey, from his mother. Or maybe that was just his nature too.

Mother interrupted him to say, "what about you Marcus, do you believe in magic?"

His eyes boggled as he stared at mother. Not ten minutes ago she had told him NOT to say anything to Muggles! Her eyes became gentle and she said, "go on, what do you think?"

Marcus decided that talking in a very small voice that only his mother could hear would not make him break his promise. "Yes," he whispered. But instead of the word ‘yes’, his tongue just stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tried again and this time it felt like he couldn’t even open his mouth if he wanted to. He looked at mother, eyes wide with panic.

She still had that gentle look in her eyes, and she just nodded at him, once.

"I don’t know," Marcus said.

That seemed to satisfy both Jayden and mother. Jayden continued to prattle and mother silently nodded at him once again. They walked back the way they had come.

As soon as they got in, mother said to father, "Alfred, call Reg, ask him to Floo over at once."

"Love, you know on a handyman’s salary, they can’t afford to just waste Floo powder willy-nilly."

"Alfred, this is important. He’s home now, please just ask."

Within five minutes, uncle Reg was sitting at the kitchen table.

"What’s going on, Alf? Mary is doing dinner and I’m meant to be doing the baby’s bath. What’s so urgent?"

"We just wanted to ask you about cleaning charms. You’ve just started at the Ministry and Delphina thought you might know some good ones."

"Are you serious, you made me waste Floo powder for this? I will write some down for you and Owl you." He started to climb back inside the fireplace.

Delphina stretched out a hand and firmly pressed down on his shoulder. She stopped him from getting up and said in her sweetest voice. "Brother, I’m so sorry, you know how I get ideas in my head. Also, I wanted to give this to you." She held out a box with the words ‘Flugel’s Floo Powder. Now with less soot!’

He looked mollified and took the container warily, his eyes not leaving Delphina’s face.

"We just want to see more of you, Mary and the baby, Reg. Please accept it, it’s not charity, you’re family, and we just want Marcus to grow up knowing his cousin."

Still with some reluctance Reg thanked her. "When I can get my inventions to work, then we will pay you back tenfold. The janitor work is just for now," he mumbled. "You know, Marcus, me ‘n yer mum were Ravenclaws at Hogwarts. And yer dad too," he added. ‘I’m sure you will be too when you get to real school, Hogwarts y’know. For now will you be Flooing to classes for little wizards or is yer mum teaching you at home?"

The three adults all turned and looked at Marcus expectantly. He remembered what had happened with Jayden and tried to say ‘Muggle school’. But instead, the words that came out of his mouth were ‘with mummy’. Uncle Reg nodded, and carried on talking about their school days for a few minutes, then Flooed back to his own house.

In the kitchen his mother and father sat quietly together.

"You should have been a Slytherin, Delphina. You know how insecure Reg is about not having a prestigious job, and how he has to tell everyone he was a Ravenclaw. You knew the conversation would get to school. Are you happy now that the compulsion charm worked? The spell you cast on your own son," he added grimly.

Delphina just laughed, and kissed him and said, "who would want to be a half-blood Slytherin!"

A daily regimen for Marcus began.

Early in the morning his mother would wake him up. She would make him cast a lumos. At first, barely anything had happened but as the weeks passed it glowed brighter.

She made him try and change matchsticks to pins. Nothing ever happened, well one had gone a bit grey once, and it left him feeling tired in a strange way. She had looked at him earnestly and said, "We need to make sure there is no accidental magic at school. If you are ever sad or angry you can hit the desk, or kick your feet or pull a pigtail. Don’t ever think angry thoughts about someone, just hit them if you want."

As he lay in bed that evening Marcus had heard mother and father arguing in their bedroom.

"Do you want accidental magic happening at the Muggle school?! No? He has to have his magic drained in the morning by doing charms beyond his level. When he is angry around Muggles he needs to let out his emotions physically. He can’t control his magic. He’s only five!"

‘Exactly!’ Father roared, "he’s only five bloody years old! This is why magical children don’t go to Muggle school when possible. It’s too much to ask."

"So I’m supposed to sit at home all day, homeschooling like a Weasley? No thanks, I had a career before we got married and being a hausfrau is not me. You knew that when we got married!"

Later, when he was older Marcus had asked her why he was so insistent that he go to a Muggle school. His mother had told him about her own mother, a Muggle who had worked at Bletchley park, assisting the codebreakers during the war.

She had thought a lot about war and had believed that keeping people separate led to so many misunderstandings and that misunderstanding was one of the seeds of war. Delphina was a Muggleborn, and had developed that belief into a philosophy that separating wizards and Muggles only led to misunderstanding and hostility. She said she wanted him to see that the Muggles were just the same as he was, apart from having magic. By interacting with them daily, he would not grow up with an insular wizarding mentality.

So as his mother had always hoped, he developed an interest in the differences and similarities between Muggles and wizards.

Maybe just not in the way she had hoped.


End file.
